Vietnam veteran reflects on quiet desperation in his memoir on war

Michael "Mickey" Moynihan Jr. says his story as a soldier isn't unusual, "just a small piece of a very long war."

MELANIE VanDERVEER

Michael "Mickey" Moynihan Jr. says his story as a soldier isn't unusual, "just a small piece of a very long war."

But memories of his time in Vietnam and Cambodia endure like the jungle's smothering heat, and Moynihan has channeled them into a book he hopes to have published.

Borrowing a phrase from Henry David Thoreau, Moynihan's father told him most men live their life in quiet desperation.

"Most people have something going on in their lives that they deal with in a quiet way even though it may have desperate meaning," said Moynihan, of East Stroudsburg.

As light of day ushered out the darkness I caught a glimpse of a dead North Vietnamese soldier only a few feet from where I slept. Startled at first, I drew my weapon on him. The darkness had kept his presence a secret as he laid there pale and lifeless through the night.

He was no threat. The upper part of his chest including his right arm were missing.

As I rose I stared at this soldier and felt good that he was dead, but couldn't help feel sorry for him at the same time. He also made me feel good that I was alive, that my life was not a statistic, a casualty, my name would not be used in past tense.

I turned away and tried not to look at his frozen expression.

Moynihan, 59, titled his memoir "Quiet Desperation: A Small Piece of a Long War."

"The book was just a reflection of my experience in war. Everyone's experience is an individual one," Moynihan explained.

"The war changed me. When you come close to losing your life, it changes your whole perspective and every day has new meaning."

He spent two months in Cambodia and 10 months in Vietnam. He last served in July 1971. He was enlisted for two years — two years that he relives every day.

His book moves from the miserable struggle of a grunt to the invasion of Cambodia and, finally, a job working for the commanding general of the First Air Cavalry Division.

It was truly a demoralizing experience being indiscriminately shelled. I can remember any number of incidents where rounds fell uncomfortably close, spraying dirt and shrapnel in all directions.

On one occasion, I was heading to the showers. As unsophisticated as they were, these tin buildings with 55-gallon drums on top did the job of removing the orange dust that seemed to permeate every part of your body.

Suddenly, a series of rocket explosions followed one after another tearing into the showers. As the soldiers waiting outside hit the ground — their towels discarded and rubber flip-flops flying — they created a scurrying mass of naked humanity looking for the nearest bunker. It was terrifying and short lived, as were most of these encounters with death.

Moynihan comes from a family of servicemen. His father served in World War II and his brother was a Marine.

In 2006, Moynihan wrote a 3,000-word story and submitted it to Vietnam magazine. It was published in June that year. A 270-page book, 10 months of writing, grew out of the magazine article.

"I was terrible in English in school and I have never written before, but if you get the motivation and that energy, you just do it," he said.

Although easy to move through, the plantation did not provide us the ability to mask our presence. We were visible, vulnerable and easy to follow so our time here would be short.

We moved on until sundown when we set up a position for the night. Part of our routine was digging a hole every night and it was something everyone hated but it was a necessity. Here amidst the rubber trees the soil was very soft and easy to dig through making our last task of the day a little easier.

The night in the plantation was also different from the night in the jungle. You were better able to get a glimpse of the stars and the shadows seemed somehow less ominous.

Moynihan disputes today's popular comparison of the Iraq war with Vietnam.

"I feel that the two wars are totally different. The terrain is different and religion is a big element of the war in Iraq. That didn't exist in Vietnam," he said. The only similarity, he said, is the difficulty of exiting from the war. Besides editing Quiet Desperation (Moynihan submitted it to three publishers and they replied with suggestions), he has started work on a book about 9/11.

"That day spurred a lot of emotions for me and it got me going," Moynihan said.

A helicopter was approaching. It was my ride out from this insanity. I was excited by its approach, knowing the relief I would find away from this place. Yet, I felt a sickening guilt in my stomach, ashamed to leave these men whose plight was dark and uncertain.

The wall in Moynihan's home office is covered with military memorabilia from his family and his service. He hopes to get his book into the hands of fellow veterans. "Veterans understand other veterans," he said.

And while Moynihan thinks his story is similar to that of other Vietnam vets, he hopes readers will find value in his personal experience.

"The book is a catharsis for me. It's something I have been living with for a while now," he said.